


First

by mansikka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Needs to Use Actual Words, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Dean is a Sweetheart, Fluff, Human Castiel, Jealous Dean, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 01:06:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5892214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he imagined Cas being human, Dean also imagined he'd have the monopoly on giving Cas the first of everything. Dean learns the hard way that by not saying what his thinking, expectations like that can be cruel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First

Expectation can be a cruel, cruel thing.

 

When Cas had first become human, there was an extensive list of things that Dean expected he would have to help him with. He’d already thought about a few things he felt Cas could do with an education on - starting with Star Wars and other such staples for example - but the sheer number of things he envisioned giving a helping hand with were virtually endless.

 

Quietly, Dean mentally compiled lists and lists of these things, finding that he really looked forward to them all.

 

And then Sam had taken Cas clothes shopping.

 

Dean couldn't work out when they’d found the time, but had kept his silent disappointed to himself when they’d returned with their arms full of bags one morning during a lull on a case. He’d thought long and hard about what clothes would suit Cas, what he’d do to kill time whilst Cas tried stuff on and he pretended to have no interest whatsoever. But when Cas walked out of the motel bathroom wearing well-fitting jeans and a shirt that hugged him just right, Dean’s throat went dry, his own jeans tightened, and that little hands-out gesture Cas always did when presenting himself for inspection made Dean’s fingers twitch to step into his almost-extended arms.

 

When Dean had suggested that Cas needed to tame his peach fuzz, he’d had some pretty lengthy ideas about oh, say, getting shaving foam on Cas’ shirt so he simply had to remove it. How it would feel to run his fingers over that jawline whilst staring deeply into those blue eyes that haunted him day and night. But when Cas trailed Sam out of the bathroom looking a little shy but ultimately pleased with himself, and a hand running over his newly shaven chin, Dean’s heart sank. He comforted himself by lightly touching the one piece of tissue from a cut on Cas’ upper lip, flicking a smile in Cas’ direction to tell him he’d done good.

 

It had been Sam that showed him how to ride a bike, riding round and round in circles in the garage of the bunker until Cas whizzed passed him at such speed Dean thought he was being chased. And when Cas had swung his leg over to sit on one of the motorcycles there, Dean had been rooted to the spot mesmerised. He forced his jaw not to hit the floor whilst his mind raced through a whole new number of scenarios that he knew would play behind his eyelids and keep him awake at night.

 

In fact, the more Dean thought about it, he realised that there had been many, many things that others had beaten Dean to showing Cas how to do, even before he’d become human. Charlie had made him watch Lord Of The Rings, with Cas declaring that Elvish was almost as beautiful as Enochian. Kevin, of all people, had shown him how to properly tie a tie - Cas just didn't like to do it. Ellen had taught him how to do tequila, and Bobby how to load a washing machine. Norah, from Cas’ stint as Steve, had clearly let him find his way around a kitchen if that lasagne Cas made was anything to go by. And what left a bitter taste in Dean’s mouth most were all the little things Cas had figured out for himself. Filling up gas. Using self-service checkouts. Those coffee machines with a hundred options that you really needed an engineering degree to figure out if you wanted a bad cappuccino.

 

For every proud grin that Cas gave when he did something new, it was the self-assuredness Cas showed when something came naturally to him that curled a little cold in Dean’s chest.

 

Because it just highlighted to Dean how much that Cas didn't need him.

 

And if Cas didn't need him, how long would it be before he realised what a waste of space Dean actually was? How long before he said goodbye, walked out of his life forever and into a new one where he was content, and functioning all on his own?

 

How long would it be before Dean recovered from that? He probably wouldn't. Cas made him feel things that he honestly hadn’t thought he ever would, and didn’t think he could ever bring himself to do again for someone else.

 

All that bravado, or cowardice, or whatever it was, that prevented Dean from saying the words that he always wanted to say to Cas, was smirking at him wickedly now, showing him all he was missing out on. He observed with a rapidly beating heart as Cas stood talking to the barista in this tiny little coffee shop they’d found themselves in. Confident, easygoing, that smile that lit Dean from within now turned on someone else.

 

Dean wanted to rescue him, knowing full well that Cas didn't need rescuing. Hell, maybe he was even enjoying the attention; it was pretty obvious even from this distance that flirting was happening over there. Dean just couldn't bring himself to look to see if the flirting was in both directions.

 

Sam snapped his fingers in front of Dean’s face. “Dude. You listen to a word I just said?”

 

Dean’s focus came back slowly, and turned to half-look at Sam. “Sure. Relics. Witches. Blah blah blah, I heard ya.”

 

Sam frowned at him unconvinced, but Dean just shrugged his shoulders. Whoever said that a Winchester couldn't multi-task?

 

Cas snuck up on them then, returning to the table with a tray laden with coffee and cookies. Cas’ face was flushed, a happy smile on his face that Dean interpreted as affirmative for the flirting. He wanted to ask if he’d gotten a phone number but somehow didn't think he’d like the answer. Or could make his question sound anything but laced with jealousy. It was of no comfort to Dean to rationalise that they wouldn’t be sticking around in this town long enough for Cas to go on a date with someone else anyway.

 

Cas passed drinks out to them both, a deep, warm smile on his face as he held out Dean’s. Dean’s heart thudded in response, and he longed for that smile to mean what it looked like to him. As soon as he had that thought, he clamped a virtual hand over his mouth, silencing it before he could say anything revealing.

 

There had been many times when he’d thought maybe those feelings he’d kept hidden were actually things that Cas felt too. Cas behaved so very differently around him than he did with anyone else. The way Cas looked at him was a mixture of want, need, pride and home, or at least that’s how Dean liked to interpret it. He’d caught Cas’ eyes roaming up him more times than he could count, and Cas was surely more than aware of the way Dean did the same to him. Dean even caught Cas turning away with a pleased smirk a few times.

 

But Dean could never be sure if this was just Cas not knowing human boundaries. He could just as easily be looking Dean up and down wondering how often he should wash his jeans. That was the problem with not physically being able to get out the words. He’d never know.

 

So Dean did what he did best in these situations. He sulked over his coffee, storming out of the coffee shop as though it had personally offended him. He was sullen, snappy, playing music far too loud on the drive back to the bunker. Sam managed to doze off, and Cas idly traced a finger against the window glass as he watched the world go by, which only fed Dean’s bad mood, even if it seemed to have no impact on anyone but himself.

 

Normally for Dean, the bunker meant home, and rest. He usually couldn't wait to get back, and the first thing he always did when pulling up was breathe deep, exhale slowly, taste home. But tonight, he couldn't face it. He couldn't face his only version of normality when it just reminded him of all the things he had failed at in life. Tonight was a downward spiral kind of night and if he didn't do something about it, he’d likely drink himself into a stupor or say things he couldn't take back, that he never even meant in the first place.

 

Sam and Cas climbed out of the car, stopping only when they realised Dean hadn't followed.

 

“Heading out for bit.” he bit out in their direction, before he started to turn the car around.

 

Cas made him jolt the car to a halt by stepping out in front of it.

 

“What?” Dean growled, eyeing him with suspicion as Cas walked around to the passenger door and yanked it open.

 

“I’d like a drink,” came Cas’ reply, and followed it by the firm shutting of the door and the solid click of his seatbelt. His eyes stared forward out over the dashboard, and Dean watched him silently in profile.

 

Sam hovered, a curious look on his face for a moment before shrugging his shoulders with an indifferent, “See you later, guys,” and turning on his heel. The heavy shutting of the bunker door drove Dean out of his staring, and he shook his head as though to clear it.

 

There was still a scowl on his face when he turned to Cas, asking a silent question. This was not what he wanted for the evening; he wanted solitary time, no kind of company at all. What he really wanted was aimless driving in the dark of night, under a canopy of stars and the only soundtrack the rumble of the engine. Until he was out of gas and in the middle of nowhere and truly as alone as he felt.

 

Instead, Cas turned his head, watching him expectantly.

 

Dean closed his eyes as he took a steadying breath, grudgingly accepting the change of plans. He gripped the steering wheel tight, squared his shoulders, and swung the car back onto the road.

 

They pulled up at a bar about half an hour later, the silence in the car from earlier now replaced with conversation that was equal parts easy and stilted. Only Cas could make the simplest of subjects seem difficult and the harder ones so straightforward, Dean reflected, feeling that affectionate smile he knew he had only for Cas creeping across his face.

 

“What’re you having?” Dean asked as they seated themselves; it was a dark, dingy bar with dated furniture and an overall feeling of gloom. There were only a few other people in, and they looked as sullen as Dean felt, but Cas eyed the place and its occupants with interest nonetheless.

 

Cas reached for the drinks menu, playing with it but not opening it up to read. “What do you suggest?”

 

Dean tapped his fingers on the table and shrugged. “You said you wanted a drink. As in one beer to take the edge off? A couple of shots? What?”

 

Cas tilted his head to one side as though he were considering one of life’s most difficult puzzles. “I’ve… never had a cocktail,” he said finally, looking at Dean expectantly.

 

“A cocktail?” Dean asked, seeking confirmation with a tone full of doubt.

 

Cas nodded. “Will you join me?”

 

A tight smile crossed Dean’s face, and he shook his head once. “Driving, Cas. Maybe a couple of beers for me.”

 

“Have you never driven over the limit?” Cas smiled, teasing in his voice as he leaned back in his seat comfortably.

 

“We playing ‘never have I ever’ here, Cas?”

 

Cas’ smile turned to a full grin. “If you want to. I think I would be drunk very, very quickly though. There is much I have never done.”

 

Dean huffed, an unpleasant feeling settling in his gut. “You played that game before?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Dean felt his usual disappointment stab, told himself to leave it at that, and then before he could stop the words from escaping he asked, “With who?”

 

“Meg,”

 

Jealousy flared through Dean like a whip. “Of course,” he bit out, stomping over to the bar to order without saying another word. Because of course, yet one more thing that Cas had experienced with anyone other than him. And with Meg of all people. Even a demon had gotten there first. A demon that had seemed overly fond of Cas in a way Dean really, really did not like, he reminded himself, clenching his teeth as he glanced through the list of available cocktails.

 

After ordering, Dean took a calming breath at the bar to rein in his mood, then returned with a slump into his seat, nodding to indicate the drinks were on their way.

 

For a moment they were both quiet and then, “Are you okay, Dean?”

 

With no eye contact and unnecessary fascination with tracing marks on the table surface with his fingers Dean mumbled, “Sure.”

 

“You've seemed...off. All day. Is something wrong?”

 

Dean rolled his eyes, more at himself than at Cas, and raised his head to look at him. Of course Cas would notice something was up; he always did, he was like a walking barometer for Dean’s moods. Faking nonchalance, Dean shrugged, “S’fine. Long day’s all. You know how I feel about witches”

 

“Then a drink was a good idea,” Cas replied, seeming pleased that this had been his suggestion.

 

And Dean couldn't help but grin back at that. He watched Cas’ face as the cocktails were set down on the table; Dean had ordered one whiskey sour, and one mint mojito, thinking Cas could sample both; he was a little excited to see Cas’ reaction and inwardly blushed, taunting himself.

 

“No beer,” Cas said, his voice pleased as Dean explained what they both were and what was in them.

 

“No beer,” Dean confirmed, nudging one of the glasses forwards. He watched as Cas’ fingers plucked the cherry from the whiskey sour, followed them to Cas’ lips, biting down on his own as he watched. Another pleased smile followed as he took a sip, showing his approval by smiling at Dean as though he’d given him the sun instead of a cheap cocktail.

 

Dean tasted the mojito, enjoying the unusual but refreshing taste even if it were not something he’d ever normally willingly order for himself. This is what effect Cas had on him, he reflected, thinking of all the things he’d found himself doing because Cas wanted them, or had asked about them. He was putty in his hands, Dean groaned to himself, gesturing for Cas to try the drink he currently held. Cas sipped at the mojito and positively beamed, claiming the drink for himself by shoving the other glass in Dean’s direction.

 

Dean felt himself grow maudlin once more at the thought of Cas never knowing the effect he had on him. Or even worse, not wanting to know. He slumped down a little further in his seat as though he wanted to be very small and hide, but his eyes never left Cas’ face. There was something so riveting, so fascinating, about watching Cas experience new things, that after just a few minutes of watching in silence he felt all traces of his anger disappear.

 

“So.” Dean tried, several minutes later. “How’re you doing, Cas?”

 

Cas looked puzzled. “With?”

 

“You know,” Dean said, flicking his hand towards him. “Living. Being. The usual.”

 

Cas looked down at himself quizzically, as though he expected to see a sign there telling him he’d done something wrong. “I… thought I was doing okay. Am I doing something wrong?”

 

“No,” Dean shook his head with a small laugh. “Nothing’s wrong at all. You’re a natural.”

 

Again, Cas looked pleased, basking in Dean’s praise. “Sometimes it doesn't feel natural,” he admitted, fingers splayed around the glass that Dean couldn't keep his eyes from.

 

“Don’t look like it from where I’m watching.”

 

Cas sighed at that. “Believe me. Every day there are so many things I didn't even consider I would need to know about. This life is a challenge. A good challenge, but a very complicated one. It’s all quite confusing at times.”

 

“Well,” Dean said, draining his glass and considering another, “You know you only have to ask. If you need something. Or need to know something.”

 

“I appreciate that Dean,” Cas smiled, and Dean thought he saw shyness there. “I try not to burden you with too many questions. I'm sure you find it frustrating after all this time.”

 

Dean thumped the glass down in surprise. “Okay firstly, never a burden, Cas. Ask away, whenever. Alright?”

 

Cas huffed a little, then took another sip of the mojito.

 

“And secondly. Looks like you’re coping just fine without any help anyway. Don’t seem like you need me - us,” he corrected quickly, “-at all sometimes.”

 

Cas’ eyes widened with his own surprise. “Of course I need you, Dean. Both you and Sam,” he added, making Dean’s heart do all kinds of flips. “You are my family. I would be very lost, and very lonely without you both.”

 

Dean allowed the truth of that statement to warm him at first, fill him with guilt when he remembered turning Cas away from the bunker, and settle finally into confusion that pressed him further into his seat.

 

“That is,” Cas continued, and now there was a little hesitance in his voice, “If I am still welcome.”

 

Cas’ words were so unexpected that Dean forgot himself for a moment, shooting his hand across the table to grip Cas’ arm.

 

“Cas,” he gasped out, voice shaky, “Never not going to be welcome, okay? Your home is with us.” with me, he thought to himself, with _me_ , wincing as the words teased their escape.

 

Now there was another smile on Cas’ face that just flipped Dean’s stomach in the best of ways, and he let his hand rest on Cas’ arm, fingers lingering a moment longer. They stared at one another then, and Dean’s breath was awkward, catching in his throat.

 

Finally, he said, giving Cas’ arm a light squeeze, “Kinda wish you’d ask for help more, actually. Feels like maybe you don’t want my help.” And there it was. One secret out in the open for Cas to know, for Cas to use against him. Vulnerability was never something Dean coped well with, but Cas was an exception to so many things in Dean’s life; he couldn't stop himself from opening up to him sometimes.

 

Cas frowned, looking at him in a measured tone as though he were reading him. A beat later his mouth opened and closed like he was working out what to say. “This is why you have been unhappy today?”

 

Now it was Dean’s turn to flush in embarrassment, but it was pointless to deny it. Instead he remained silent, avoiding eye contact.

 

“Dean,” Cas prompted gently, nudging for a response.

 

And then, “I wanted to be first, Cas!” he said, words tumbling out as though he had no control over them. He didn't, it seemed, not when it came to Cas.

 

“First,” Cas repeated, sounding unsure.

 

“Yeah, Cas. First. First one to help you with… I don’t know. Things. Like…” and then he shrugged his shoulders, letting his hands fall noisily to the table. “I assumed I’d be the one to teach you how to shave,” he nodded towards Cas then, eyes falling to the stubble of his chin. Cas’ hand rose automatically to stroke across his mouth, leaving Dean to wish it was his hand on Cas’ skin.

 

Dean cleared his throat to detract from his thoughts and continued, “I… kind of assumed I’d be the one to help you pick out clothes too. But you rarely ask me for anything nowadays. I feel like… I don’t know.” And he sat back then, sighing at himself. “Stupid, I guess. Purposeless.”

 

Cas’ face was a picture of confusion then. “I...didn't want to rely on you so heavily. You already do, and did, so much for me. I didn't want you to think me incapable.” he admitted, fingers twisted in the napkin on the table in nervousness. “And I don’t want you to look at me as though I'm just another problem to solve. I wanted you to see me as an equal.”

 

“Cas,” and dammit if there wasn't a whole load of emotion in his voice now, “You've always been my equal. More than my equal. You've always held your own.” Dean couldn't, and wouldn't, keep the pride from his voice then, speaking nothing but the truth.

 

The smile Cas gave in response made Dean’s heart thud, and it felt like a fog had been lifted. Maybe words weren't really their thing, but the look on Cas’ face now spoke loud and clear; _I'm yours. And you, Dean Winchester, are mine._

 

“Besides, Dean. There are many more firsts to be had,” Cas ducked his head as he spoke shyly, his cheeks becoming flushed.

 

“Like?” Dean asked quietly, holding his breath.

 

Cas bit down on his lip. “I've…Uh.. this is the first time I’ve had a cocktail,” he managed finally, laughed at himself, and Dean was unable to do anything but laugh in response. He started then when he felt a finger lightly prod into his thigh, and his gaze dropped to see Cas’ hand resting on the seat beside him. “And...I’ve...never held anyone’s hand,”

 

Dean flipped his hand without even thinking, threading his fingers through Cas’ and smiling down at the image that made. When he raised his head, Cas looked so pleased that his cheeks were in danger of bursting with his smile.

 

So they sat, more stilted conversation that leaned towards confessional and then admitting of feelings than Dean had ever hoped he’d have the courage to do. Apparently, when prompted, words were their thing after all. Who would have thought?

 

Their hands remained entwined throughout.

 

They left the bar hand in hand, and Dean had his own first of not caring at all if anyone had a problem with him doing so with another man.

 

“Can I ask for another first?” Cas mumbled as they reached the car.

 

Dean squeezed Cas’ fingers. “Yeah, Cas. You can.”

 

“You might not like it.” he warned, chewing on his lip as though he feared he’d be crossing a line.

 

Dean felt like there was pretty much anything Cas could ask for, and he would gladly give it. “Try me.”

 

Cas took a breath that sounded a lot like determination, then let go of Dean’s hand. He turned into him, and with another beat of hesitance, raised his arms, winding them around Dean’s waist, holding on tightly. Dean was surprised, but happily so, and his own arms followed to circle around Cas, drawing him against his chest and sighing heavily into his shoulder.

 

Dean pressed his lips there for a second, whispering, “Strictly speaking this isn't our first-”

 

“It’s the first hug that we've had that isn't just in greeting,” Cas countered, cutting off Dean’s words. He shivered as Dean breathed out a laugh into his neck, arms gripping tighter.

 

“Can I give you another first, Cas?” Dean whispered against his ear before he drawing back a little to look at him.

 

Cas watched as Dean’s eyes fell to his lips, and instinctively flicked out his tongue to wet them. One nod, and Dean was carefully cupping his face, pressing their lips together with a gentleness that filled Cas with such happiness he had to grip on tightly for fear of falling to the ground. So that’s what was meant by weak at the knees, he thought to himself, eagerly kissing Dean back.

 

Back at the bunker, Dean tugged on Cas’ hand, not seeming to want to let go. He looked down at their joined hands as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

 

“How about one more first, Cas?” he asked, leaning Cas against the wall outside Dean’s room, and ghosting a trail of kisses down the side of his face.

 

Cas’ eyes grew wide. “Dean. I don’t know if I'm ready for-”

 

Dean kissed him then to cut off his words, smirking against his lips. “I'm not planning on using up all our firsts in one night, Cas. There’s plenty of time for that.”

 

Cas kissed him back then with a ferocity that suggested at least part of him would be up for all sorts of other firsts tonight. Dean groaned a little, pressing himself flush against him, hands cupping his face.

 

“I want to take you out.” he said, eyes never leaving Cas’. “The whole wine and dine thing, whole nine yards.” He planted a kiss in the corner of Cas’ mouth, feeling his smile. “I want to take you on a picnic, to watch baseball, to… I don’t know. Row a boat.” He peppered kisses all over Cas’ face as he spoke, revelling in the smiles he received in return.

 

“I want to make out with you in a movie theater. Have you try real popcorn instead of the crappy microwave stuff we always have here.” More kisses, longer ones that Cas returned with contented sighs and caressing fingers.

 

“But right now...I’d really, really like for us to fall asleep together for the first time.” Dean rested his forehead against Cas’ for a moment, before another kiss and a mumbled “That okay with you, Cas? ‘Cos after today... I...need...” Dean pulled back then, his words failing him as he watched Cas’ face for refusal, or disinterest.

 

Cas casually looped his arms around Dean’s neck, drawing him down for another long, leisurely kiss. Kissing, Dean thought to himself, was something Cas seemed to enjoy very much, and that made him all kinds of happy. Then, sliding his fingers across Dean’s palm and wrapping them around his, Cas nodded once, turning expectantly to Dean’s door.

 


End file.
